Wood restorer masters what could be

February 10, 2007|DAVID A. KEEPS Los Angeles Times

Niall Bourke has an odd way of taking a seat. He faces it and places his right knee in the middle of the chair, then puts one hand on the arm and the other on the back. Gently, he rocks his body to and fro. If the chair wobbles, it will need to be re-glued and clamped. If not, he'll look more closely to determine when and where it was built, what wood was used and how the piece was crafted. Bourke knows his stuff. He studied carpentry in school in Limerick, Ireland, and then in the mid-'80s moved to Greenwich, England, where he learned to restore wood paneling in the homes of aristocrats. Today, in a Culver City, Calif., workshop, he restores antiques, builds custom designs with aged lumber and specializes in applying a high-gloss French polish technique to furniture for dealers, decorators and customers with family heirlooms. "I'm the one that teaches a piece of furniture manners, if you like," he says. "We knock some sense into it, dress it up and make it look presentable." For Bourke, spotting faded glory is part of the challenge. On a hot Sunday, he leads the way through the Ventura Flea Market at the Ventura County fairgrounds, north of Los Angeles. The goal: to identify wood furniture worth the time and money needed to restore it. Almost immediately, he spots a pine armoire in a booth run by Charlotte Ophaug, who started the antique mall in the old Santa Barbara County train depot of Los Alamos. Bourke's first guess is that it comes from the former Czechoslovakia, Bulgaria or Romania. "It's definitely an Eastern Bloc country piece," he says. "You can tell that by the two panels on the door, the turned column in the front and the finials." The piece has turned feet, which rules out a British heritage, because the British tend to use bracket feet on pieces of this size. At $450, the price is good. "I'd put in three shelves and maybe add a drawer for books," Bourke says. "If it was ebonized, it would be something else. What would really make this sell to a designer would be to make it black." The modifications and finishing work would run at least $500, but Bourke believes that he could sell it easily for $2,000 to a designer, who in turn would raise the price for a client. At Stan Lester's booth, Bourke comes upon something called a Hoosier cabinet, kitchen fixtures that often came equipped with a built-in flour sifter. Nearby are century-old American Arts and Crafts pieces. "These are quarter-sawn oak, which is wood cut on an angle to reveal more of the wood grain," Bourke says. "If you stand back, it looks like lightning bolts flashing across the wood. Quarter-sawn wood is the prime cut." At Old Pine Furnishings, an Asian importer based in Glendale, Bourke hits the mother lode. "Dovetails," he says joyfully, looking at a drawer with flared pegs and grooves that fit together like gear teeth -- a technique that was all but abandoned for mass manufacturing. "This is what it's all about," he says, adding that he can tell the age and origin of almost any piece of furniture by its dovetail joinery. "These are hand-cut, which are the most sought after." Nearby, underneath a portable sunshade, two young women sit with an antique sofa frame. "It's neoclassical, close-grained pine with fluted tapering legs. French," Bourke decides. It is also much longer and deeper than a settee, elegantly proportioned and detailed. "You'd have to tighten it up, glue it and clamp it and polish it. You're looking at about $600 for that, and then you'd want to reupholster it properly with springs and down cushions." He estimates that expense at about $1,000, excluding the fabric. "We thought we might upholster it," one seller says. "We're actually just trying to find a nice home for it." After paying $150 for the frame, Bourke assures them that they have.